LILLY
Stuart Evans inspects the trousers and shirt with a growing sense of irritation before flinging them onto the armchair.
How could he possibly go out like this? The trousers are crumpled, the crease no longer visible, and theyre shiny on the seat. On top of that, hes lost about a stone lately and the trousers now sag around his waist like a sack. The shirts a lost cause once sky blue, its faded to a drab, lifeless grey, the cuffs are frayed and the collar has gone limp absolute disgrace! Lilly wouldnt have let him out to the village shop in this shirt, and here he is, heading to the university to lecture postgraduate students.
Clothes never used to bother him he always looked not just respectable, but properly dapper. Not like now! Hed never noticed before how often shirts appeared, how new suits, coats, ties, caps, and those smart brogues found their way into his wardrobe, all sorted as if by magic, or just after mentioning to Lilly that he needed to look the part for a meeting.
Oh, Lilly, what on earth were you thinking, leaving like that? Stuart never expected a betrayal like this! She was nearly a decade younger, hardly ever seriously ill, and even this time, there wasnt the slightest warning. Just a mild fever for three days, and then that wretched cough. She wouldnt even have gone to the doctor if shed had her way shed have stuck to her herbal teas but she needed a medical note before the new school year. So off she went with the other teachers to the local surgery.
It should have been routine, the surgery was nothing special, but straight from there, they sent her to hospital and everything unravelled like some nightmare, all finished before New Year. Stuart understood, rationally, what had happened, but found an unreasonable hatred towards the surgery, blaming it for what had happened, even though theyd been the ones to raise the alarm. It was childish, he knew, but it felt as though because it all started there, they were at fault.
Theyd met when Stuart was a second-year postgrad running tutorials for undergraduates in advanced calculus, and first-year Lilly happened to be in his group. It was a mystery how she caught his eye. Hed always fancied the lively, confident girls, but Lilly was just a slip of a thing rosy from the cold, freckled even in February, with pudgy little fingers, nails bitten and smudged with ink. It was those fingers that did it completely charmed, he didnt notice how he grew attached, started escorting her home, called in to help make dumplings with her gran, and after that, there was nothing left but to marry.
Over forty years with her, and though Lilly doubled in size, chopped off her plaits, took up smoking and became a deputy head at the maths school, Stuart always saw those same childlike hands, the bitten nails, and always felt a pang in his heart there was no one else for him.
Not that their life was a fairy tale far from it. Forty years is a long time. Stuart had his sins: a scattering of minor indiscretions and two major lapses, which included leaving home for a while. Lilly had her own response: for three years she had a romantic friendship with the director of the factory overseeing her school. Yet their two daughters were anchors that kept their ship afloat in every storm.
It was always tough: first, they lived on top of one another in near-poverty, then endless battles to get the girls to music, art, and normal school, figure skating, and constant childhood colds. Now, the flat is huge, the daughters live their own independent lives, and even show the grandchildren only on rare special occasions. Now, when they could finally live for themselves, Lilly went and left and gave him no instructions on how to cope with it.
Stuart was so unprepared for this twist that it took him a long time to really grasp it. At the memorial he even behaved slightly inappropriately, almost as if at a birthday party, hardly at a wake. People noticed, quietly judged him for lacking grief, decided he didnt deserve empathy. But later, only months on when the spring began, did he truly understandand collapsed. He was miserable, lost weight, and couldnt stand being alone at home.
Living with his daughters was out of the question: one was off around the globe with environmentalists, saving dolphins or tracking bird migrations; the other, wrapped up in motherhood and her husband’s family, had no place for her dad in her lifes blueprint. So, Stuart began visiting friends.
Although, visiting isnt quite right. Hed turn up at odd hours, eat hungrily and in silence, nap in armchairs, drink tea, scatter crumbs over his stale shirt, sit quietly waiting until it was no longer polite to stay, and then drag himself home, only to come round again in a day or two.
At home, he barely managed to eat. In all their years, he was always the home cook, but somehow he couldnt be bothered to cook for just himself. He was rapidly wasting away thinning out, looking years older, so much so that his friends panicked and decided they must urgently remarry him.
And now, here he is again, about to go to the theatre with some Anna Davies. Nothing will come of this. Even with Lilly, theatre trips were rare, and always for her sake. He found it all insincere, artificial, boring, and often just plain poor. But Lilly would gaze at the stage, collect programmes, and retell the plays to him for weeks after he could never refuse her.
Now, his friends, thinking theyre helping, routinely hand him tickets to plays, and off he trudges, shuffling through slushy London streets with unfamiliar women, sitting for three hours in uncomfortable shoes that pinch his sore back, struggling to breathe in the cloud of perfume, dispensing juice and stale cake to these old ladies during the interval, and just longing to run home and bury his face in a pillow that still smells of Lilly, or so he imagines. But he cant upset his friends and feels obliged to go. Besides, even if he doesnt see the point, he understands its impossible for him to live alone.
Tonights Anna Davies turns out to be rather sprightly and pleasant, and Stuart even thinks shed have been just his type ten years ago. Shes fifteen years younger, petite, well-groomed, clever, lively. Next to her, Stuart feels every year of his age, but she clearly hopes to see him again and suggests plenty of plans for the weekend.
Even the play tonight is decent at least its short, with no interval. Ideally, after the show, he should treat her to a café, but luckily, fate spares him.
Anna mentions she lives nearby, right by the tube, and has just made a delicious roast and pie shed love to share supper with him. The invitation is suspiciously well-prepared, but the prospect of a warm, cosy kitchen is irresistible, so Stuart cheerfully accepts.
Anna proves an excellent hostess. Her cosy, sweet little flat smells of cinnamon and vanilla, and she slips into a tracksuit that makes her seem even younger. She busies herself in the kitchen, treating Stuart to all sorts of home-cooked delights, chatting easily, and he briefly thinks how nice it would be to stay forever in this gingerbread house to escape a past that haunts him day and night and perhaps begin anew.
But in the end, Stuart drags himself home well past midnight, though tomorrow he and Anna have plans for an exhibition at the Museum of Private Collections, shopping for new clothes so he doesnt embarrass her in public, and Saturday lunch at Annas. Shed rather whisk him away to her cottage in the countryside, but her daughter has asked for a favour could she look after her granddaughter for a few hours after school? So Saturday, lunch at home with the granddaughter; the countryside visit postponed until Sunday.
Saturday morning, Stuart dashes to the barber, chopping years off his appearance, adds to the effect with a fashionable checked shirt and soft corduroy jeans, buys flowers and a bar of chocolate for the granddaughter, then heads to Annas.
Already on the landing, hes enveloped by the inviting scent of roast duck and baking. Stuart realises hes humming and even smiling at his own reflection in the time-worn lift mirror.
Anna greets him with such warmth and tenderness, as if hes come back from the front, and steers him straight to the kitchen for lunch.
Wheres your granddaughter? Stuart asks.
Ill fetch her. Shes in one of her moods, didnt want to come out of the bedroom, Anna replies. Stuart busies himself, arranging the flowers in a vase, uncorking a bottle of wine and juice for the girl, slicing bread, and taking his place at the table.
Meet my granddaughter, Stuart! This is Lilly.
He looks up to see large clear eyes, rosy cheeks, and faint freckles on a button nose. Lilly looks at him warily, nervously chewing her thumbnail. Stuart feels his chest tighten, and the thought flasheslets just hope I dont collapse right here. Quickly, he steps out into the hallwayFor a frozen moment, the kitchen is filled with the humming silence of memory and possibility. Stuart manages a smileawkward at first, but softening as Lilly, still hovering in the doorway, offers him a shy glance beneath her fringe. Anna, watching the two of them, busies herself with plates and murmurs about duck and dumplings, but Stuart hardly hears.
I like your flowers, Lilly says quietly, after a moment.
Theyre for you, Stuart replies, placing the awkward bundle gingerly on the table, and he fumbles, so is the chocolate.
Lillys grin is quick, delighted, and the way she tears at the wrapper fills the room with sudden, simple life. Anna pours the juice, chatting about her plans for the garden, and Stuart listens, but more than anything, he watches Lillyher hands, ink-stained and restless, her fierce concentration as she balances a slice of roast on her fork, her easy, childlike laughter. He feels himself drawn into some gravity, gentle and immense, not the same as before, but not wholly different either.
Later, after lunch, when Lilly drags him to the living room to help with a jigsaw puzzle, Anna watches from the doorway, stroking Stuarts shoulder in passing. She warms up quickly when shes ready, she says softly.
Stuart nods, swallowing past the old ache, and Lilly tugs at his sleeve until he kneels beside her. Pieces scatter, little hands nimble, fitting strange edges togetherfractured, at first, but slowly forming a coherent whole, all bright colors and improbable connections.
He realizes, with wonder, that grief and hope are not so differentthey both linger, they both shape the quiet hours and fill the empty spaces. And as Lilly giggles at his clumsy attempts to find the skys corner, Annas laughter drifting in from the kitchen, Stuart feels the sharp edge of the past begin at last to dulland the tiniest seed of belonging, tentative and bright, take root in its place.
For the first time in months, as dusk falls against the window and the puzzles picturehalf-finishedglimmers in the fading light, Stuart lets himself imagine tomorrow. Not as a blank space to fear, but as something that, with gentle, Patient hands, might fit together after all.
